


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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USEFUL AND 




AN 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG, 

REV. E;T^. KIRK; 



PLEASANTNESS OF EARLY PIETY, 

BY 

J. G. PIKE; 



PLEASURES OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE, 

BY 

J. A. JAMES. 



N E W - Y O R K : 
PUBLISHED BY DAYTON & SAXTON, 

Successor to Gould. Newman & Saxton, 
CORNER OF FULTON AND NASSAU-STREETS. 

1841. 



i • ••^ • ' ^' 



.l4 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by 

William A. Thompson, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 

Southern District of New-York. 



S'P 



NEW- YORK: 

Hopkins & Jennings, Printers, 

111 Fultyn-sir«et- 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The following Address was delivered in 
behalf of the British and Foreign Young 
Men's Society, and first published in London. 
It has since been republished in this country, 
though in a form not so well adapted as that 
in which it now appears, to attract the atten- 
tion of the young. It urges upon them^ in a 
happy and impressive manner, the duty of 
^^ personal improvement^^'' and the ^^work of 
philanthropy^ 

The valuable treatises which follow — from 
"Pike's Persuasives to Early Piety," and 
" The Christian Father's Present to his Chil- 
dren " — are added, with the hope of securing 
for them, in this connection, a more extensive 
perusal. 



A Christian is the highest style of man. 

« * :^ Jf :f: 

Religion ! Providence ! an after-state ! 
Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ; 
This can support us; all is sea besides ; 
Sinks under us ; bestorms, and then devours. 
His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle w^hirl. 

Youn^, 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 



I have written unto you, Young Men, because ye are 
strong. — 1 John, ii, 14 

The venerable writer of this epistle had 
passed through the five stages of human ex- 
istence: infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, 
and old age. Time had now silvered his 
locks, and given its mellow tints to a charac- 
ter, which, even in his earliest manhood, had 
secured to him the title of " the beloved dis- 
ciple." There is, through the whole of this let- 
ter, a vein of exquisite simplicity and tender- 
ness. He looked back to the period of youth, 
and remembered, how critical and important 
a season it had been to him. By the grace 
of God, his seed-time had been rightly em- 
ployed, and he was now reaping a golden 
harvest of serenity, intelligence, the confi- 
dence of good men, usefulness, and a perfect 
assurance of eternal blessedness. He had 
1* 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 



leaned upon the Saviour's bosom ; he had fol- 
lowed him the most closely in the hour of 
peril; and he was now finding, in rich ex- 
perience, that such was the best preparation 
that a young man could make, for the sober 
realities of age, and for an approaching eter- 
nity. Hence his counsels were turned to 
young men. " I have written unto you, young 
men, because ye are strong." His reference 
is not to the physical, but to the mental vigour 
of youth. Mental strength is a merciful gift 
of God, which may be w^asted on trifles, or 
perverted to evil, or used for great and good 
purposes. It is the power which God has 
imparted to form our own character, and to 
control the character and destinies of oth- 
ers. In reference to the subject before us, 
we are not called upon to examine the man- 
ner, or time, in which this strength is im- 
parted from our beneficent and merciful Cre- 
ator. It is strength, — human strength, and, 
of course, derived strength, to which the 
apostle alludes. The praise and gratitude 
belong to God who gives it. To man be- 
long the privilege and the responsibility of 
possessing it. Let our attention, then, be 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 



directed first to those great objects, which 
the young should distinctly and constantly 
propose to themselves, as the glorious achieve- 
ments, for which, by the energy, the fresh- 
ness, the enthusiasm of their age, they are so 
peculiarly qualified. We consider, 

I. The noblest objects of youthful desire 
and pursuit, 

1. Personal improvement, I mean by this, 
that every young man should aim to become 
as truly good and excellent as he can be. I 
speak not now of his becoming great. That 
we shall consider presently. It is painful to 
discover, how few of the young men of Chris- 
tian countries take a sufficiently elevated 
view of themselves, as endowed with the 
noblest, though perverted, creature-powers. 
One looks upon himself in no higher light, 
than as a mint for the coining of money. If 
he can learn the great art of accumulating 
property, he has reached the summit of hu- 
man excellence. Multitudes are satisfied 
with the mere training of their muscular 
powers in some mechanical art, to the utter 
neglect of all the mighty powers of intellect, 
and of all the finer sentiments and affections 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 



of the heart. It is painful to know, that 
every youth has a depraved heart, and still 
more so, to observe that so few have any 
desire to rectify the moral derangment, and 
to restore to the soul the sweet, harmonious, 
balanced exercise of its powers. Nay, some 
have even yielded themselves to the gratifi- 
cation of every depraved desire and feeling ; 
restrained only by a regard to their reputa- 
tion. They look upon the present life, not 
as probationary and disciplinary, and pre- 
paratory to a better ; but as the golden time 
for the indulgence of all the lower propensi- 
ties of the mind. 

My proposal to the young before me is — 
that they look upon the immortal mind with- 
in, as their noblest possession ; and upon the 
training of that, under the blessing of God, 
to piety and virtue, as their most important 
employment. It is that part of your nature, 
which places you but little below the angels. 
It is upon the proper employment of its pow- 
ers, that your happiness here, and your bles- 
sedness hereafter, entirely depend. Your 
moral condition is a peculiarity in the history 
of God's empire. Angels, before you, have 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 



fallen from their high estate ; but, unlike you, 
they have no mediator with God. They 
have no hope of pardon. Like you, they are 
perpetually disturbing and distracting the 
delicate harmony of their moral powers. But 
unlike you, they are under no dispensation of 
grace. No sweet, overwhelming views of 
the benignity and mercy of their offended 
Creator shines upon their dreary, despairing 
souls. While Memory incessantly portrays 
the scenes of former glory and happiness, 
the finger of Hope never points them to em- 
inences of bliss, and personal perfection, 
which may be attained. To you, young 
friends ! to you all this pertains. There is a 
provision in the mercy of God, not only for 
the pardon of the penitent, but also for the 
ensuring of success "to them, who by patient 
continuance in well doing, seek for glory and 
honour, and immortahty." Who, that has 
once conceived aught of the primitive condi- 
tion of man, or of angelic purity, does not 
see, that the world within him has lost its 
balancing power 1 Disorder and discord have 
usurped the place of order and harmony. 
God was once the centre of all the social 



10 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

system, and love its attractive power. Then 
the created soul moved in its ov^n sphere, in 
harmony with the universe. Then God was 
its light and its life. But now the centripetal 
power of love is lost from the soul, and its 
centrifugal energies are driving the poor 
wandering star into the " blackness of dark- 
ness" eternal. God is no longe its centre. 
And hence, where once were verdant bloom- 
ings, the cold and barrenness of polar regions 
are seen and felt. Where the love of God 
exists not, there must be confusion, corrup- 
tion, and death. Where self is the centre of 
attraction, the primitive order is destroyed, 
and what should have produced life and bles- 
sedness, must result in misery and death. 

Who, that knows himself, can refuse the 
applicationtohimself of these remarks? Who 
can say — " I am right ; — 1 am clean ; — I am 
prepared without change to stand before the 
throne of God ; — this delicate machinery has 
never been disturbed, its balance-wheel nev- 
er failed ?" Man's moral depravity consists 
in his perverted affections, and in the volun- 
tary blindness of his conscience, and the fee- 
bleness of its directing power. The con- 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 11 

science was given to show us, when and how 
far our desires and affections may be proper- 
ly gratified. We are supremely selfish, when 
all our choices, purposes, and actions tend 
only to our own gratification. We are un- 
godly, when our affections rest supremely 
on the creatures of God. Both these con- 
ditions of the mind and enlightened con- 
science would check and reprove. But where 
it does not, there it is bhnd, and voluntarily 
blind, because God has thrown around us light 
sufficient to guide our steps. The conscience 
is feeble, when, with what light we do pos- 
sess, it cannot restrain the selfish desires, and 
the idolatrous affections, from controlling the 
conduct, and forming the character. 

This description embraces two great clas- 
ses. It includes, first the creature of passion. 
When he does any thing, it is because he 
feels a strong impulse to do it; consequently 
that which ought to stand eagle-eyed between 
the will, and every impulse excited by exter- 
nal objects, is either blind, or dumb and pow- 
erless. It either see's no wrong, or is wea- 
ry of speaking the language of remonstrance, 
or it is no longer the balancing power, deter- 



12 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

mining which impulse shall prevail, and which 
shall not. 

This description includes also the man of 
earthly affections. He may be benevolent, 
and just, and true to man, because these are 
either, to a certain extent, constitutional pro- 
pensities, hke hungerand thirst, or are adopted 
as adapted to promote temporal happiness. 
He cannot see that he is selfish ; for he is kind, 
upright, and faithful. But he may easily see 
that he is ungodly ; by which is meant, that 
his affections embrace not God. He is just, 
but not towards the Creator, whom he thus de- 
frauds of his affections and of all his powers ; 
affectionate, but not towards God ; grateful, 
but not to the Man of Calvary, — the God 
incarnate. This is moral derangment, and it 
must be rectified. It should be commenced 
immediately, under the gracious influence of 
that Spirit, who now comes forth from the 
mediatorial Prince of Life, to raise and re- 
store ruined man. The affections must em- 
brace God supremely in their wide scope. 
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart, and soul, mind and strength." To 
him we must be reconciled in Christ, and of 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 13 

him obtain forgiveness. Conscience must 
become the director of actions and volitions, 
under the guidance of the Spirit and the 
w^ord of Christ. Those pernicious habits of 
sensuality, which may have formed — those 
habits of self-will, which all have formed, — 
those habits of speaking and acting from pas- 
sion, impulse, or desire, regardless of the 
moral right or wrong, must all be changed. 
From the pride, which originates in selfish- 
ness, and is sustained by moral blindness, you 
must come to a perpetual abiding in that 
holy and glorious presence which bows to 
heaven's pavement the tallest angels. From 
all that groveling absorption in the things of 
a probationary state, which were meant, not 
for the perfection of the soul in love, but for 
its discipline in penitence, and humility, and 
self-government, you must set your affections 
on things above, where Christ sitteth at the 
right hand of God. In a word, you must 
undertake the training of a blessed spirit for 
the society and bliss of those, who "have 
washed their robes, and made them white in 
the blood of the Lamb." We propose, 
2. The Work of Philanthropy; — doing of 
2 



14 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

good to the extent of your power. Who is 
the greatest man that ever hved ? I speak of 
any that may be, or that was designed, in 
the Providence of God, to be a model for 
the race. It is blasphemy to rank, in true 
moral greatness, — that greatness which is the 
legitimate object of human ambition, — any 
above Jesus of Nazareth. Say not that he 
is too far removed to be our model. As a 
man, he was but a man, a perfect man, made 
in the likeness of sinful flesh ; and the direc- 
tion to us is, — " Let this mind be in you 
which was also in Christ Jesus." True great- 
ness, as exhibited by him, is to live, and con- 
secrate the time and powers to higher ob- 
jects than such as men generally pursue ; 
and, in the pursuit of those objects, to pass 
by the indulgence of the desires and feehngs 
which constitute the happiness of most men. 
It was a fine specimen of the moral sublime, 
when Jesus sat weary and hungry at the 
well of Jacob, and said, " My meat is to do 
the will of him that sent me." It was spo- 
ken, in view of the ignorant and perishing 
souls then flocking to him from the city. It 
should never have been, for one moment, a 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 15 

question with any human being, whether or 
not there is, truly, any greater object for which 
we can live, than that for which he lived. The 
only point, which it might have seemed pre- 
sumption to believe, is, that we are permit- 
ted to engage in the same lofty enterprise ; 
that it is not enough for heaven's mercy to 
call us to pardon, and peace, and the hope 
of heaven; but even to the very work, which 
tasked all the human energies of the Redeem- 
er, and which illustrated all his Divine per- 
fections. Yes, my young friends ! you are 
called to become philanthropists. The sound 
of the trumpet is heard on high, — 'To arms ! 
To arms !' — but it comes from the Captain 
of Salvation, the Prince of Peace. It is to a 
bloodless field — to contend "not with flesh 
and blood, but with principalities and pow- 
ers, and spiritual wickedness in high places." 
The rider on the " White Horse " goes not 
forth alone against the enemies of God and 
man. The victors, who are yet to walk in 
the triumphal procession, with palm leaves 
in their hands, are " the dwellers on the 
earth f^ some, doubtless, of them before me. 
Their weapons are the weapons of light, 



16 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG, 

wielded in the cause of God and humanity. 
But what are the objects of this moral war- 
fare ? They are — to deliver the prey from 
the spoiler, to burst open the prison doors, 
and to proclaim liberty to the captives. You 
are called to sigh and weep in the spirit of 
a Howard — nay, the spirit of Howard's Sa- 
viour—over the degradation, and wide-spread 
misery of a race which has apostatized from 
God, in its affections, and its allegiance. 

We propose to you to become great men 
in the sight of God, of angels, and of the 
good on earth. And, if we have observed 
aright, it is hastening to this, — that the stan- 
dard of greatness is undergoing a change; 
that to be a great man, in the estimation 
even of the world,- will require, that he, to 
whom the distinction is awarded, shall exer- 
cise the moral and benevolent feelings, and 
not the selfish feelings, as his great impelling 
power ; that his theatre shall be the scenes of 
actual wretchedness and moral degradation; 
that in his track shall be found the ignorant 
enlighted, the captive exulting in his free- 
dom, the heart of the orphan gladdened, the 
cause of justice and truth established, the 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 17 

glory of God promoted. Oh ! if you desire 
fame, let it be the fame of leaving the hu- 
man family better and happier than you 
found it ; if your ear must drink in praise, let 
it be the blessing of him that was ready to 
perish; let your monuments be the rich gar- 
den spots of moral beauty and fruitfulness, 
reclaimed from the waste wilderness. Help 
to increase the facihties for educating the 
mind of man — to improve the modes of ed- 
ucating — to spread these facilities, till they 
have benefited every member of the vast 
brotherhood of man. Let your party in politics 
be the great party whose aim is to have all 
men, under every government and any ad- 
ministration, govern themselves by the laws 
of God. Let every moral reformation re- 
ceive from your hand and impulse and a hap- 
py guidance, which, but for you, it would 
never have received. Lift, on these shores 
of the great ocean of life, more of these mor- 
al light-houses, which shall save from tem- 
poral and eternal destruction the souls of 
men. Let a light be kindled, that shall con- 
tinue to burn when you are dead. If it is 
the light of truth, others will tend it, and 
2* 



18 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

trim it, and feed it. It will continue to burn 
with increasing strength and clearness, scat- 
tering from a wider and yet wider region 
the midnight darkness ; enlightening and 
cheering man on his way to eternity, even to 
the day, when the sun shall be blotted out ; 
and then it will still burn and mingle its rays 
with the glories of the celestial city. Young 
men ! I speak to you, because all this glory 
may be yours. Yes, under the merciful ad- 
ministration of Jesus Christ, you may become 
both good and great. 

But, if we should succeed to stir up any 
strong desires in your mind, let us not leave 
you deceived by a false inference, that all 
this is reached by an impulse, a wish, and a 
resolution. To attain the high character of 
a practical, efficient philanthropist, requires 
much personal cultivation, much well-digested 
knowledge and experience; and that these 
should be but quahfications, not substitutes, 
for activity. And, with the greater part, 
these attainments are to be the reward of ef- 
forts almost unaided by man. One child in 
ten thousand is blessed with a happy educa- 
tion. A mother, or, as by a miracle, some 



ADDKESS TO THE YOUNG. 19 

competent substitute, has watched over the 
first developement and expansion of the pow- 
ers. The understanding has been rightly 
disciplined and well-informed ; the exuber- 
ant feelings have been chastened ; the finer 
sensibilities cultivated ; the soul formed to 
manliness, to piety, and practical wisdom. 
Oh ! these instances are rare. Most of the 
good, who have adorned the world, and of 
the truly great, who have blessed it, have, 
under heaven's favour, made themselves. They 
have grappled with the evil habits of youth ; 
they have struggled against the influence of 
evil companions, and of a depraved public 
sentiment ; they have feared, and wept, and 
prayed, and studied under discouragements, 
which, contemplated in the mass, would have 
appalled them. All this we know. And yet, 
with all this in view, we urge you to become 
good and great men. This will require you 
to become truly pious men. This is the first 
element of true greatness ; because it is the 
only state in which the moral powers are 
rightly exercised. Sin is the only truly des- 
picable object in the sight of God. And pi- 
ety is its antagonist and opposite principle. 



20 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

All other greatness only removes you the 
farther from God's esteem, and the respect of 
angels. It only lifts you higher, that you 
may sink the deeper in eternal disgrace. 
Shun that false and phantom-greatness which 
lures you to eternal ruin. He is not a great 
man, who depends on any thing physical, or 
any thing external for his greatness. Greatness 
is not in reputation, but in character. He is 
not truly great, who does not meet the ob- 
ligations, which arise from all his relations, 
and chiefly those to God. That is not great- 
ness, which will not m.ake one illustrious at 
the judgment day, and respected in heaven. 
He is not a great man, who does not enjoy 
the blessing of God. Moses was truly great. 
Select one exhibition of it. When the cloud 
of God's wrath was gathered over the guilty 
children of Israel, it was not learning, nor 
military talents, nor political sagacity, that 
could save them; it was prayer. This is 
power, and Moses possessed it. This is great- 
ness, and Moses possessed it. 

Young men ! become men of prayer. The 
eternal and wise God changed the name of 
Jacob to that of Prince of God. Why ? Be- 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 21 

cause he had native mental power, or great 
intellectual acquirements? No; but because 
he had power with man, and power to pre- 
vail with God in prayer. Ah ! that is the 
highest style of eloquence, which persuades 
God. Get it, young men ! in the school of 
Christ : get it, as patriots, for your country's 
sake ; get it, as reformers of a sinful world. 
It is idle, to look or labour for the renovation 
of the frame-work of society, unless you ren- 
ovate the hearts of men ; and it is vain to 
hope for that, without the aid of God's Holy 
Spirit. And his influences will be sent upon 
others, in answer to our prayers. Be men 
of prayer. It is the best attainment of a pat- 
riot, and of a philanthropist. And to at- 
tempt the radical renovation of society, in- 
dependently of the agency of God's Spirit, 
which he has promised to give in answer to 
prayer, is moral quackery. 

To be useful requires a cultivated mind. 
This consists in two things ; — the proper dis- 
cipline of the mental faculties, and a knowl- 
edge of man, of the physical world which 
surrounds him, and of the God in whom he 
lives and moves. To be an eflficient philan- 



22 . ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

thropist you must be possessed of a well- 
cultivated mind. We propose no royal road 
to this eminence. The men, who have reach- 
ed it, have toiled and fainted, and again toil- 
ed, and again been discouraged. They, that 
reap in great joy, and bear home their sheaves 
with shouting from this field, are they, who 
carried forth their precious seed and scatter- 
ed it with tears. Yes, the great Philanthro- 
pist himself was not exempt from this uni- 
versal law. Gethsemane and Calvary lifted 
their terrific barriers between him and the 
end of his labours. To be philanthropists you 
must become students. No branch of knowl- 
edge will be out of place, while some will 
be more important than others. Neither the 
time nor the occasion allow an enumeration 
of those processes of mental discipline, and 
those branches of knowledge, which you may 
profitably pursue for this great purpose. It 
may suflSce to say that the intellectual fac- 
ulties which you should train, and the habits 
which vou should form, are — reflection — at- 
tention — arrangement of facts under princi- 
ples — activity — ^judgment. If I should recom- 
mend any books to those who wish to com- 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 23 

mence, they would be Dr. Abercrombie's 
two little works on the intellectual and moral 
faculties. 

But, besides mental strength and correct 
intellectual and moral habits, you must be 
acquainted with facts and principles. 

God is the first great object of knowledge. 
You are his and in his world. Apostacy 
from him is man's misery — reconciliation to 
him the only happiness. The Bible is there- 
fore the first book in a human library ; be- 
cause, on each of these points, it throws a 
light which no other can furnish. There nev- 
er was, in modern days, a great efficient pub- 
lic philanthropist, who achieved much for the 
moral renovation of mankind, whose princi- 
ples were not formed by the Bible. 

As you are to operate upon man, you can- 
not know him too intimately. Your sources 
of knowledge are the Bible, Observation, In- 
trospection, and History. 

Physical science should be one branch of 
your studies. We recommend a cultivated 
taste : — the habit of writing, speaking, and 
conversing properly and impressively. You 
should obtain right views of the object of 



24 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

our position in this world, and of the true val- 
ue of time, property, and every other means 
of influence. 

It requires, finally, a well-blanced mind. 
By w^hich is meant, one that is neither indo- 
lent, nor idly active, nor injuriously active ; — 
one that is neither insensible to the suffer- 
ings of man, nor so sensitive as to be unfit- 
ted for action, nor yet driven to act blindly 
and injudiciously ; — one that is not vs^avering 
on great practical principles, nor yet rash in 
forming a judgment and obstinate in main- 
taining it ; but one that looks calmly at a sub- 
ject on every side, under a solemn sense of 
responsibiUty to posterity and to God, and 
then dares to believe what is true, and to 
proclaim it on every suitable occasion ;— one 
that is willing to hear counsel, to profit by 
advice, and yet fearless of personal conse- 
quences, if the cause of truth and human 
happiness requires sacrifice. We may not 
now illustrate each of these ; but we may 
take one and expand it a little. That indepen- 
dence, which you must acquire, in order that 
you may become an eflScient benefactor to 
your race, has been impressively exhibited 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 25 

by many, who have gone before you in this 
noble career. That the condition of the hu- 
man race is improving, on the whole, is ev- 
ident. There is an advance in parts of the 
world, in science, and in the arts which make 
matter subservient to mind, in morals, in re- 
ligious science, in jurisprudence, and in the 
international law. For all these advances, we 
are indebted to the divine mercy. But the 
instruments, which God was pleased to em- 
ploy, were men, who had by much cultiva- 
tion become fitted for their sphere, and then, 
with singular firmness and independence, 
moved forward in the work of reformation. 
Polytheism was the national, the court-re- 
ligion of Greece, Rome, Egypt, and Persia. 
Some bold spirits must have dared to inves- 
tigate, whether public sentiment was right on 
this point. And, after investigating, some- 
thing more was required. There must have 
been a wise selection of the modes of pub- 
lishing the truth, and of opposing the popular 
error. Yes, and there must have been an 
utter abandonment of the public favour, an 
exposure even of life, which none but an ele- 
vated mind will considerately incur, in view 



26 ADDRESS TO THE TODNG. 

of a great object of public welfare. Need I 
mention, as high on this list, Isaiah, the sub- 
lime reprover of idolatry, and all the proph- 
ets of the Old Testament, who were stoned, 
burned, and sawn asunder ? To them and to 
their firmness are we indebted for our con- 
ceptions of the unity of God, and of the infi- 
nite majesty and glory of his name. 

Judaism was the state-religion which op- 
posed the introduction of Christianity. We 
inherit the latter as our richesl; legacy ; but 
it cost other blood besides that of its great 
Author. Read the lives of the first preach- 
ers and professors, for an illustration of that 
decision and independence, which is deman- 
ded of the benefactors of our race. To 
whom are we indebted for the benefits of the 
Reformation ; and to what traits in the char- 
acters of the Reformers ? 

You might find even in the history of phys- 
ical science specimens of the same. Such 
was Copernicus, whose knowledge and bold- 
ness called the wrath of the inquisitorial fath- 
ers upon him. 

We have thus urged you, not merely to 
become great men, but, — that which needs 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 27 

a more powerful stimulus, — to go through the 
severe process of preparation for it. Were 
we thus to urge little children, our argument 
and appeal would fail alike of being under- 
stood and felt. And so with men in the ma- 
turity of life, fixed in the inflexibility of their 
intellectual and moral habits. But I have spo- 
ken "unto you, young men! because ye are 
strong." And it now remains, after this ex- 
hibition of the great objects, to which your 
mental strength must be directed, to observe, 

II. That Youth is the period of life in 
which the pursuit of these objects must he 
commenced, 

1, Youth has its peculiar advantages for the 
formation of character. The periods of human 
hfe may be variously divided for various purpo- 
ses. The body runs through the seasons of help- 
lessness and sprightliness, vigour and decrepi- 
tude. The intellect has sometimes two periods, 
generally three. The mind is at first shut up ; it 
then expands ; and, if neglected, it runs back 
again to imbecility. But, if rightly treated, 
the mind would lift its pinions, with growing 
strength, until the moral coil is dropped. 
Except in cases of disease, its vigour would 



28 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

remain unimpaired, if not neglected. In re- 
spect, therefore, to intellectual improvement, 
youth is the important time of forming those 
habits, which cannot afterwards be formed, 
when the active duties of life rush upon man 
to the extent of a total absorption of time and 
thought. 

But this sentiment is most emphatically 
true, as we observe the peculiarity of man's 
moral structure. With regard to character, 
infancy is the period of mental torpor. Then 
comes the season of childhood, when propen- 
sities are first developed ; when the imitative 
power is brought into exercise, but the con- 
science is feeble, and its discernment of right 
and wrong exceedingly limited. Now the 
habits of animal indulgence are formed, with- 
out scarcely an understanding that man must 
live for higher ends. Now the habits of ly- 
ing, fraud, pilfering, meanness, are formed, 
with scarcely a whisper from the inward 
monitor, and with almost no conception of a 
holy and all-seeing Judge, and a future ret- 
ribution. Such, as matters of facts, are the 
disadvantages, under which man commen- 
ces the formation of character ; even at the 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 29 

very period when the lowest propensities 
have the strongest play, and when his own 
moral checks are the feeblest. Not that 
children have no conscience. Not that they 
are incapable of feeling the generous im- 
pulses of gratitude and sympathy. But this 
is emphatically the period, when they must 
be governed and instructed by others. The 
plastic hand of education must now do for 
them what nature has not done, and what 
they cannot do for themselves. But we pass 
from childhood to the 'third stage of man's 
moral history. Here he appears with his 
propensities to animal gratification— the stron- 
gest mental bias ; his imagination the wildest, 
and yet most commanding intellectual facul- 
ty. But with all this, he has some experience 
of the evils of transgression ; the sense of 
right and wrong has become formed. He 
is now capable of choosing his gratifications, 
in view of all the relations he sustains to 
God and man in time and eternity, of his ob- 
ligations, and of the consequences to himself 
and others. The appetites and passions are 
strong ; but they have not the fearful strength 
of habit long-matured. Evil examples are 
3* 



30 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

powerful. But conscience, as it were new- 
born, is vigorous and powerful too. Resolu- 
tion is a power, which has not yet been over- 
come, and it lives enwrapped in its giant 
strength within the youthful bosom. The 
sense of shame is a powerful barrier against 
vice. The finer feelings of the heart, not yet 
rendered callous, plead against it. Here is 
the interesting period of youth. The child 
was the creature of impulse, of sympathy, of 
imitation, of stubbornness perhaps, but not of 
decision. This has ex*ceptions ; yet it is gen- 
erally true. But now appears the youth on 
the stage of probation, ushered amid scenes 
and companions, whose moral bearings he 
just begins to comprehend. To him the task 
is committed, to form in a few short years 
the character of one man for life, and deeply 
to affect the destinies of a multitude more. 
That season passes. He goes on from the 
age of twenty-five to that of thirty years ; 
and it is generally then determined what 
character he will bear through life, and in 
what sphere of moral influence he will move. 
If he has yielded to sensual desires, to mean- 
ness, to fraud, sordid gratification ; if he has 



I 



I 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 31 

stooped from the lofty aspirings after holi- 
ness and immortal glory from the hands of 
his Redeemer ; he has become weak in the 
chains of a self-imposed slavery. And every 
fitful struggle only proves their iron-strength. 
It was evidently this moral strength to which 
the Apostle alluded, for he says, — " Ye are 
strong, and have overcome the wicked one." 
Here was the proof of their strength ; that 
with the moral energy, imparted by grace, 
they had overcome the great enemy, in whom 
is concentrated all moral evil. Young men! 
ye are strong to effect this great object com- 
mitted to man, — the formation of charac- 
ter ;-— strong to grapple with moral and spir- 
itual foes, that shoot with the arrows of con- 
tempt, or the deadlier weapons of flattery; 
that decoy where they cannot beat down. 

2. Youth is the most favourable season to 
commence the preparation for a life of eleva- 
ted philanthropy. 

Imagine this entire assembly to be arous- 
ed by the Spirit of God, in view of the im- 
portance of this subject, to an intense desire 
to commence the formation of those habits, 
and the acquisition of those attainments, which 



32 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

should fit them to become extensively the 
benefactors of the world. The desire might 
burn like an inward fire. But what will it 
avail yonder aged man? He may sigh over 
the mistakes and moral blindness of his youth, 
over time and faculties wasted, over a life al- 
most spent, and its greatest object left un- 
accomplished. It may prostrate his soul in 
penitence and contrition before God. And 
he may say, with soul-thrilling eloquence, — 
" Yoi^ng men ! ye, ye are strong : but with 
me it is too late. Yours is the fire, and fer- 
vor, and force ;— yours, the facihty for form- 
ing new habits, which mark you as the fa- 
vored objects of these appeals. My summer 
is: past, my harvest is ended." 

Yours, yonng nien j is more than this ; your 
very position in society is that of strength. 
The wicked one is contending for the mas- 
tery with the Prince of Peace. The em- 
battled hosts are on the field. The cruel 
rigiments of Infidelity, Intemperance, Gam- 
bling, Licentiousness, are all^ under their 
great leader, pressing their terrific conquests 
over human virtue and happiness. But it is 
with the young men of this generation to de- 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 33 

termine the condition of the war to the end 
of time. Your individual character and in- 
fluence could do much. But what could not 
your united influence accomplish? Let the 
young men desert the standards of Infidehty, 
Intemperance, Gambling, Profaneness, Sab- 
bath-desecration, and Uncleanness ; and who 
will lift their banners of blood again, when 
the old drunkards and debauchees, and gospel- 
despisers have passed away ? Yours is the 
strength to be beat down, in the present gen- 
eration, the enemies of God and man, and to 
keep them low in, at least the next. Yours 
it might be to train, under yet better aus- 
pices, a still more efficient army for the 
Prince Immanuel. And although the little 
band, here collected, cannot do what belongs 
to the entire body of youth, yet the work 
niust at some time begin somewhere, that ev- 
ery word, which the Lord hath spoken, may 
be established. 

But, methinks, I hear the tones of despon- 
dency ; — " The speaker forgets his commis- 
sion ; many, with whom and for whom he 
came to plead, enjoy but limited opportuni- 
ties for mental cultivation. But here is a 



34 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

path stricken out, which requires all the time 
and all the opportunities afforded by a liberal 
education. He has surely forgotten the mer- 
chant's and mechanic's apprentice ?" — No, 
young man ! I have spoken thus even unto 
you ; because, with all the disadvantages of 
your situation for mental cultivation, you are 
strong. And, to strike a decisive blow at 
your discouragements, I would lay down the 
broad position, that there is no situation or 
employment, in which it is proper for a young 
man to be, in which he may not become a 
good and a great man. You must breathe-in 
the gospel-principle, that it is neither family, 
nor property, nor profession, which forms real 
character, merit, or respectability. Look not 
for honour to your profession, but to your char- 
acter. With regard to the formation of a 
religious and moral character, surely you can 
complain of no special disadvantages. It is, 
then, the intellectual part of the training for 
which you think you have not time and op- 
portunity. I admit that there are four par- 
ticulars in which the liberally-educated has 
the advantage. 

1. In the amount of time which he can de- 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 35 

vote to mental improvement. And yet there 
are some compensating circumstances, which 
you, perhaps, overlook. It is demonstrated 
beyond dispute from physiological science 
and observation, that muscular exercise, such 
as agreeably employs the mind, is indispen- 
sable to the best cultivation of the entire 
man. Some of the first young men of Amer- 
ica have utterly disqualified themselves for 
usefulness, by a disproportioned exercise of 
the mind. And besides, if you are truly 
aroused to take firm hold on this great enter- 
prise of self-improvement, the probability is, 
that those hours, which you can devote to it, 
will be so much more profitably spent, that 
you will accomplish more real study, than is 
done by the majority of college-students. 

It is not the enrolment on the catalogue of 
a university, nor the residence within college- 
walls, nor the listening to professors' lectures, 
that makes the man. It depends, at last, on 
his own eflforts, how much he is benefited. 
If, with a faithful attention to those interests 
of your employer with which you are in- 
trusted, and due attention to the particular 
branch of business which you are learning, 



36 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

there are combined the habits of scrupulously 
saving time, of guarding the mind against 
every thing which interferes with its improve- 
ment, of conquering difficulties, of persever- 
ing in the midst of discouragements, and of 
still keeping the eye on a high mark, when 
all the circumstances in which you are placed 
are depressing ; you have a moral training for 
philanthropic effort that is invaluable. You 
complain of the want of time. Where did 
Benjamin Franklin find it to form in his print- 
ing-office the philosopher and statesman ? 
Had we more Franklins in the shops, we 
should have more in the senate-chamber. 
The living names of great and good men, 
who have surmounted the same difficulties, 
are very numerous. Economy of time and 
system would accomplish for you what might 
now seem wonders. 

Another of your disadvantages is, 
2. The want of that collision of mind j which 
Schools and Colleges afford. This is a real 
difficulty, and we will not look to you to re- 
move it ; but, I trust, the day is not far dis- 
tant, when your fellow-citizens will see this 
subject in a true light, and assist you in the 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 37 

formation of such Societies for discussion and 
composition, as will greatly advance the de- 
velopment of your mental powers. And yet, 
to show you what can be done among your- 
selves, with a little assistance from others, I 
refer you to the account of the Gas-Light 
Company of Glasgow, as stated in the Penny 
Magazine, vol xi, p. 60, American edition. 

3. You are in want ofProfessors or Teach- 
ers, I can only say now, — bend down, dear 
youth ! with ail the energies of your soul, to in- 
tellectual and moral improvement; w^e will hail 
your advances, and welcome you as brothers. 
We will do more. I can almost pledge this 
community to furnish you with lectures, and 
with courses of instruction. Your evenings 
may be divided between the public worship 
of your God, private stiidy, and the public 
lecture. You shall have higher attractions 
than the theatre, ball-room, or gambling- 
house can offer. 

4. And the remaining difficulty is the want 
of books. Is that so ? In this community are 
there youthful minds, panting for knowledge, 
who cannot reach its precious fountain ; and 
tliis, for the want of a little of the property, 

4 



38 ADDRESS TO THE TOUNa. 

which God has so liberally bestowed upon 
us ? No, young friends ! this will not be the 
case long, after this community shall have 
learned your necessities. Your cause is strong. 
It is the plea of want, laid at the heart of 
patriotism and benevolence. It is not a cry 
for bread. It is the mind, struggling through 
the mists of mental night, panting for light, 
thirsting for the living waters of knowledge. 
Not many words are needed in presenting 
your claim before this Christian community. 
They feel for you, for their country, for pos- 
terity, for the honour of their city. It shall 
not be said, that the claim of an Institution, 
formed for your intellectual and moral im- 
provement, was presented in vain. 

In closing my remarks, I turn again to you, 
young men ! I have presented but one side 
of the subject. You are strong not only for 
good, but also for evil. You are strong con- 
stitutionally. But the greater your strength 
the more critical your situation. Your vig- 
our is but like steam in navigation, the im- 
peHing power ; it is not the helm. If you 
abandon yourself to blind impulse, remem- 
ber that life's stream is winding ; remember, 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 39 

how thickly it is underlaid with rocks and 
shoals. In coming up the Thames, they do 
not trust even an experienced master, but 
must employ a pilot who has studied every 
inch of the river. And dare you venture on 
the stream of time, without an enlightened 
conscience for your pilot ? If your helm be 
not vigilantly and strongly commanded by 
this only skilful, faithful guide, you must in- 
evitably be wrecked. You are strong to un- 
dermine the pillars of social order. You 
may live yet many years, doing the work of 
death. 

There are two parties in morals in this 
community : on the one side, are engaged 
the friends of public virtue and true religion ; 
on the other, the sustainers of vice, of infi- 
delity, of intemperance, and of all forms of 
evil. Where shall your strength be enlisted? 
If with Virtue and Godliness, let it be ac- 
tively, efficiently employed. Who dares de- 
vote the peculiar strength of youth to self- 
ish purposes of any kind? When you may 
without extravagance hope to become public 
benefactors, is it right to bury your powers? 
How can you determine, in becoming a law- 



40 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

yer, physician, mechanic, or merchant, to live 
for yourself? Are there not motives suffi- 
ciently powerful to induce you to live for 
the good of your race ? See how it is sunk 
in ignorance, in oppression, in sin. You may 
help to elevate it. Yes, you may help to 
purify and elevate the character of this whole 
empire, and make its influence yet more pow- 
erful and beneficial to the entire world. 

You five in a day of peculiar promise to 
the human race. There is a waking up of 
the human mind from the slumber of ages, 
and a startling of the human conscience 
from its long torpor. An intense curiosity and 
earnest anxiety for the word of God, are 
now heaving the mass of the pagan mind. 
The heathen are calling to the sons of Brit- 
ain and America, to become cordial believ- 
ers in that Gospel, which they so richly enjoy 
to enlist as Missionaries, and to herald its 
joyful tidings to their waiting crowds. They 
call upon our educated youth, to enlist all 
their genius and learning in order to illus- 
trate the science of God and salvation. They 
call upon our mechanics, to educate them- 
selves to go forth as the pioneers of the arts, 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 41 

which have flowed in the wake of Christiani- 
ty. And did one poor fanatic, emerging from 
his murky cell, once rouse the chivalry of 
Europe to pour its wealth, its talent, its no- 
bility, its royalty, down upon the infidel Turk, 
to hberate the holy sepulchre from pollution ? 
And have not we a nobler order of mind to 
address and move? — have not we a holier 
crusade to commend ? Did kings throw away 
their sceptres, and grasp the sword to carry 
war, and devastation, and death, amidst in- 
nocent thousands, merely to gratify a sen- 
timent of superstition? And will not our 
youth be ready even to forsake their fire- 
sides, in the holier, nobler work, of bowing 
the heart of man to the sceptre of Christ ? 
Look at the minute steps in this great work. 
The preacher, schoolmaster, physician, far- 
mer, mechanic, must go and lead their be- 
nighted minds to Christ ; must carry them 
the press, educate their children, form new 
habits, and reorganize the structure of do- 
mestic society. 

Now all this range of thought strikes us 
with peculiar force, when we remember, 
that there are no impediments to personal 
4* 



42 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

improvement, but such as indolence presents. 
Merit, in every civilized country, affords an 
acknov^ledged claim lo public confidence, 
and to extensive influence. To do good re- 
quires no genealogical table, no great family- 
name. Young men ! we know not how to 
cease our importunity. Will you commence, 
or pursue with renewed vigour, the course of 
self-improvement for philanthropic purposes? 
We want you to become truly strong men, 
in knowledge, in intellectual power, in moral 
energy. We want you, not to be authors of 
ephemeral excitements in our excitable world, 
but to impress deeply on the human mind 
the eternal principles of moral and religious 
truth. Take the Redeemer of men for your 
model. Study deeply and prayerfully his 
character, until you breathe his spirit. Read 
the biography of good and great men. Take 
as a model of judicious perseverance, Gran- 
ville Sharp. Under what one has called, — 
" the excitement of mercy," — he was led to 
protect a slave from Barbadoes, named Jon- 
athan Strong, who was brought to England 
by his master, and becoming sick, was left to 
perish in the streets. After he had recover- 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 43 

ed, under the kind attentions of a brother of 
Sharp, his master claimed him as his slave. 
This aroused the noble soul, that could feel 
another's woes as keenly as his own. Sharp 
immediately applied himself to a new study. 
And if every man, who studies law, would 
do it as he did, — to become an able philan- 
thropist, — that profession might exert an in- 
fluence for good, which cannot be calcula- 
ted. He examined the principles of the 
British constitution and law, to see whether 
they really stood opposed to liberty and the 
rights of man, or not. The decisions of all 
the highest courts were against him. Here 
then he determined to take his stand, with 
no other weapon than truth. He opposed 
the ablest and profoundest jurist England 
ever saw ; and he maintained that opposi- 
tion, until he overthrew the influence of au- 
thoritative, but unjust opinion, and finally es- 
tablished the glorious truth, that, by the 
British constitution, every human being, 
that treads on British soil, is free. Two 
long years he spent, not in vaporing, and de- 
nouncing, and frothy declamation, but in an 
intense study of law. He then consulted the 



44 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

most eminent jurists, and wrote several tracts 
to enlighten the public mind, and prepare the 
way for his attack. After the case of Strong 
was decided in favour of the master, three oth- 
er cases were tried, each one of which open- 
ed the way for Sharp to shake the preju- 
dices, which, hke spiders, hung their dusty 
cobweb-folds even in such a king's palace as 
the mind of Mansfield. This great man at 
last yielded to Sharp's resistless argument, 
and came out and settled the principle for 
ever. Trace this history through, to admire 
and imitate his motives, his persevering and 
painful study. Be benefactors of your race; 
be deep, profound thinkers. See the array 
of public sentiment against him ; and see the 
triumph of principle. Behold its effects now 
in the West Indies and in America. The 
first of August stands closely connected, not 
in time, but as effect to cause, with the efforts 
of that noble mind. 

Fellow Christians ! I take this occasion to 
commend to you the interests of the British 
AND Foreign Young Men's Society. Its ob- 
jects are worthy your ardent aff'ection. They 
are comprehended in the improvement of 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 45 

youthful hearts and minds. Anticipate what 
they may be. Perhaps to-night a strong de- 
sire for self-improvement is aroused, but, with- 
out your aid, aroused in vain. To what nobler 
object can you devote hundreds of pounds 
than to feed those minds, and train these pa- 
triots and philanthropists ? 



Active Christian Benevolence the Source of Sublime and Lasting 
Happiness. — Carlos Wilcox. 

WouLDST thou from sorrow find a sweet telief ? 
Or is thy heart opprest with woes untold ? 
Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief? 
Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold. — 
'Tis when the rose is wrapt in many a fold 
Close to its heart, the worm is wasting there 
Its life and beauty ; not when, all unrolled, 
Leaf after leaf, its bosom, rich and fair. 
Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the ambient air. 

Wake, thou that sleepest in enchanted bowers. 
Lest these lost years should haunt thee on the night 
When death is waiting for thy numbered hours 
To take their swift and everlasting flight ; 
Wake, ere the earth-born charm unnerve thee quite, 
And be thy thoughts to work divine addressed : 
Do something — do it soon — with all thy might j 
An angel's wing would droop if long at rest. 
And God himself, inactive, were no longer blest. 



46 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 

Some high or humble enterprise of good 
Contemplate, till it shall possess thy mind, 
Become thy study, pastime, rest, and food, 
And kindle in thy heart a flame refined. 
Pray Heaven for firmness thy whole soul to bind 
To this thy purpose — to begin, pursue, 
With thoughts all fixed, and feelings purely kind ; 
Strength to complete, and with delight review, 
And grace to give the praise where all is ever due. 

No good of worth sublime will Heaven permit 
To light on man as from the passing air ; 
The lamp of genius, though by nature ht, 
If not protected, pruned, and fed with care, 
Soon dies, or runs to waste with fitful glare ; 
And learning is a plant that spreads and towers 
Slow as Columbia's aloes, proudly rare, 
That, 'mid gay thousands, with the suns and showers 
Of half a century, grows alone before it flowers. 

Has immortality of name been given 
To them that idly worship hills and groves, 
And burn sweet incense to the queen of heaven ? 
Did Newton learn from fancy, as it roves, 
To measure worlds, and follow where each moves ? 
Did Howard gain renown that shall not cease. 
By wanderings wild that nature's pilgrim loves? 
Or did Paul gain Heaven's glory and its peace, 
By musing o'er the bright and tranquil Isles of Greece ? 

Beware lest thou, from sloth, that would appear 
But lowliness of mind, with joy proclaim 
Tby want of worth; a charge thou couldst not hear 
From other lips, without a blush of shame, 



ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. 47 

Or pride indignant ; then be thine the blame, 
And make thyself of worth ; and thus enlist 
The smiles of all the good, the dear to fame; 
'Tis infamy to die and not be missed, 
Or let all soon forget that thou didst e'er exist. 

Rouse to some work of high and holy love, 
And thou an angel's happiness shalt know, — 
Shalt blest the earth while in the world above ; 
The good begun by thee shall onward flow 
In many a branching stream, and wider grow ; 
The seed that, in these few and fleeting hours. 
Thy hands unsparing and unwearied sow. 
Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers. 
And yield thee fruits divine in Heaven's immortal bowers. 



THE PLEASANTNESS 



EARLY PIETY. 



THE PLEASANTNESS 

OF 

EARLY PIETY. 



I. It is the common delusion of the world, 
that religion is a melancholy thing ; unsuitable 
to the young and sprightly; and of such a na- 
ture that it would blast all their pleasures, and 
render their lives dark and dreary. The word 
of God, on the other hand, describes true reli- 
gion as the only source of real comfort. It is 
the only remains of Paradise below. That 
holy Book declares, that "the ways of wis- 
dom are ways of pleasantness, and that all 
her paths are peace." It also tells us of "joy 
and peace in believing ;" of " rejoicing in God ;" 
"rejoicing in the Lord always;" of "rejoic- 
ing" in Christ, " with joy unspeakable and full 
of glory ;" of" delighting " in " the Lord." The 
scripturesrepresent it as the Christian's portion 
to possess " a peace which passeth all under- 



52 THE PLEASANTNESS OF 

standing;" "if sorrowful," to be " always re- 
joicing;" to "glory even in tribulation ;" and 
even if " the fig-tree should not blossom, and 
there should be no fruit in the vine ; " if the 
" labour of the olive should fail, and the fields 
should yield no meat ;" if the "flocks should 
be cut off from the fold, and there should be 
no herd in the stall ;" if, in short, famine and 
desolation were ravaging all around, still to 
" rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of 
his salvation." 

II. If, after this, you wish for human testi- 
monies, to the comforts which true piety af- 
fords, you may have them in abundance. Not 
that you should ask the men of the world. 
This would be as absurd as to request a man 
born blind, to describe the beauties of a fine 
prospect. As he, who never saw, cannot tell 
what pleasures sight affords ; as he who never 
heard, cannot describe the delights which mu- 
sic yields its admirers ; no more can they, 
who never knew religion, tell you what its 
pleasures are. But would you know whether 
religion is the best source of happiness, ask 
those who possess it in reality. How many 
such would tell you, they never knew what 



EARLY PIETY. 53 

true delight was, till they found it in religion! 
How many such would unite their testimony 
with that of a young person, known to the 
writer, on the evening after her solemn ad- 
mission into the Church of Christ, " This has 
been a happy day to me ; I hope I shall be 
faithful unto death, and then my last will be a 
happier ?" 

III. True religion, though it forbids confor- 
mity to this world, and directs you to set your 
affections on the things above, yet forbids no 
lawful use of the innocent comforts of earth 
and time. It is true, it denies you the play- 
house, that hot-bed of vice, the licentious ro- 
mance, the silly novel, and those scenes of 
worldly revelry, which a poor deceived world 
call happiness ; yet these are not sources of 
real happiness, even to those who love them 
so well. On one occasion, when some of 
Colonel Gardiner's dissolute companions were 
congratulating him on his happiness in licen- 
tious dissipation, a dog happened to come into 
the room, and he could not forbear groaning 
inwardly, and saying to himself, " O that I 
were that dog!" Such was his happiness, 
and such is doubtless that of thousands more. 
5* 



54 THE PLEASANTNESS OF 

Early piety would give you the best pleasures. 
Through the knowledge of Jesus you would 
have peace. Peace within. Conscience, that 
else must be a troublesome monitor, would 
become a delightful friend ; while the Holy 
Spirit would witness with your spirit that you 
are a child of God. Peace with God is an- 
other source of true delight, and this too would 
be yours ; you might look on the Most High 
as a tender Father, and beloved friend, while 
to the careless sinner he is a dreadful foe. 

IV. Early piety would open to you another 
fountain of real pleasure, by forming your 
heart for the enjoymentofdelights, far, far su- 
perior to those of sense. In communion with 
God, in meditation on divine promises and 
love, the Christian has those pleasures which 
he would not exchange for all the pleasures 
of the world. Even his tears of penitential 
grief afford him more sincere delight, than 
they find in all their noisy mirth. The pub- 
lic, as well as the private services of religion, 
also yield true delight to those, who, partak- 
ing of renewing grace, are capable of relish- 
ing the sacred pleasure. Hear how one who 
knew these pleasures, could express his feel- 



EARLY PIETY. 55 

ings, **How amiable are thy tabernacles, O 
Lord of Hosts ! My soul longeth, yea, even 
fainteth, for the courts of the Lord ; my heart 
and my flesh cry out for the living God. 
Blessed are they that dw^ell in thy house : 
they v^ill be still praising thee. For a day in 
thy courts is better than a thousand, I had 
rather be a door-keeper in the house of my 
God, than to dwell in the tents of v^icked- 
ness. O God, thou art my God ; early will I 
seek thee : my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh 
longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, 
where no water is ; to see thy power and thy 
glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary. 
Because thy loving-kindness is better than life, 
my lips shall praise thee. Thus will I bless 
thee while I live ; I will lift up my hands in 
thy name," 

V. In various other respects the ways of 
wisdom are ways of pleasantness. Is it pleas- 
ing to think of dangers escaped ? early reli- 
gion would give you this satisfaction. You 
might, with wonder and delight, reflect that 
God had snatched you from perdition, and that 
though once an heir of wrath, the danger were 
over, and you an heir of heaven. Is it plea- 



56 THE PLEASANTNESS OF 

sant to think of treasures obtained and friends 
possessed ? This pleasure would be yours. 
You might read the long catalogue of the 
Christian's blessings, and say of each, " This 
is mine. This promise is made to me." You 
might look upwards to the abodes of bliss, 
and exclaim, " There dwells the ever-blessed 
Jehovah, and he is my God. There is the 
adored Immanuel, and he is my Saviour. 
Those bright abodes, which lie far beyond 
the reach of mortal sight, are my future home. 
The stars that adorn that spangled firmament, 

* Are glittei'ing dust beneath the feet 
Of those who dwell with God.' " 

In health and prosperity you might say, " God 
gives me much here, but how much more have 
I hereafter ; how much better are my trea- 
sures there T Or in poverty, sickness, and 
pain, you might smile and say, " My all is not 
laid here." Sweet is it for a seaman, that 
has escaped the storm, fixed on a rock, to 
smile on the waves that are beating beneath ; 
but O, it is far more sweet to smile at all the 
terrors of time, as vanquished enemies and 
baffled foes ! Who should be so happy as they, 



EAKLY PIETY. 57 

who have a humble confidence that eternal 
happiness is theirs ? Who should enjoy such 
peace as they who can look at death without 
fear, and view it as the path that leads their 
souls to God, to Jesus, to heaven ; to glory, 
endless as that of their Creator ; and to hap- 
piness more real than sorrows are below ! 
Who should possess such solid comforts, as 
they who can turn their eyes to the grave, 
and dread not the prospect of lying there ; 
who can raise their thoughts to the starry 
heavens, and rapturously consider, that they 
shall outlive these glorious fires, and shine, 
adorned with brighter glories, when stars and 
sun shall shine no more ! Who should be so 
happy as they, who can contemplate without 
dread, that solemn period, when the world 
shall burn ; the trumpet sound ; the Judge de- 
scend ; the dead awake ; and happiness or 
misery inexpressible, unchangeable, and eter- 
nal, become the lot of every human being ! 
Go and look into an open grave, try to fancy 
it opened for you, and see whether you can 
imagine this with peace and composure. If 
you cannot, learn that all your delights do not 
make you happy, for into the dreaded grave 



58 THE PLEASANTNESS OF 



you must ere long descend ; and thousands 
possessed of the blessings of humble piety, 
have trodden that gloomy path with satisfac- 
tion ; and desired to depart and be with Christ. 
Is it pleasant thus to look forward, with 
sweet anticipation, to future scenes of happi- 
ness ? This source of pleasure would become 
yours, if a possessor of early piety. Is it plea- 
sant to have a friend ready to welcome us when 
a long journey is ended ? Jesus is the young 
Christian's friend, he waits on the distant shore 
of heaven. In their passage through the river 
of death he will uphold his humble friends; and 
welcome them to glory on their arrival there. 
The Christian too, indulges the pleasing hope 
of reunion there, with the pious friends he has 
loved below. He can contemplate the happy 
bands above. Patriarchs and prophets, apos- 
tles and martyrs, and numbers to the world 
unknown, who have loved the Lord, and won 
the promised crown ; and among them he per- 
haps enumerates some, once dear, still dearto 
himself, who have finished their pilgrimage, 
and whom he hopes to meet again, when he 
shall finish his. O happy meeting ! O bliss- 
ful prospect ! Would not you possess it? and 




EARLY PIETY. 59 

when you reach the close of Hfe, do not you 
desire the pleasure of panting for the skies ? 
the pleasure of being able to appeal to the 
Lord, that you have humbly loved him ? Do 
you not wish to say at last, "Gracious Re- 
deemer, on thee I rest my hopes ; my best 
obedience has been too imperfect ; my most 
faithful duties stained with too much imper- 
fection ; my love too cold ; my thankfulness 
too week-*; yet I expect eternal life, for it was 
purchased for me by thy blood ? I look to 
heaven ; it was secured for me by thy merits, 
thy sufferings, and thy death. Gracious Lord, 
thine be the honour, while the infinite advan- 
tage is mine. It yields me pleasure now to 
know, that thou seest that 1 love thee ; and 
have loved thee, from my early days. Thou 
hast seen me truly thine, imperfect as I am ; 
and though I have often offended thee, yet I 
bless thy name, that I have been kept from 
dishonouring thee, by those numerous and dark 
crimes, which I should have committed if I 
had not remembered thee betimes. Though 
I have not done my duty, and am an unpro- 
fitable servant, so short of thy claims have 
been the services of my youth, and those of 



60 THE PLEASANTNESS OF 

my riper years ; yet I look forward with joy- 
ful hope to the time when I shall see thee as 
thou art ! and though my time is almost finish- 
ed, yet I rejoice in the sweet prospect of pass- 
ing eternity in thy presence, and there will I 
cast at thy feet that crown which I have in 
expectation, and which was bought with thy 
blood." 

VI. True piety is pleasant, for it is a source 
of pleasure even in the midst of pain. Man 
is born to sorrow as the sparks fly upwards ; 
and though many young persons seem to sup- 
pose that that world which has been a storm 
to others shall be a calm to them, yet experi- 
ence soon removes the delusion. No situa- 
tion on earth can give perfect peace. Even 
the most peaceful and happy dwellings, where 
love and harmony ever abide, cannot supply 
that blessing, for into them pain has its ave- 
nue, and death its entrance ; death, that dis- 
solves the fondest ties, and takes away the life 
that is dearer than our own. But no affliction 
can befall the true Christian, under which his 
Redeemer willnotgive him suitable support and 
consolation. A gentleman was invited to visit 
an indigent man deeply afflicted ; andgave the 



EARLY PIETY. 61 

following account of what he witnessed : "On 
entering the cottage, I found him alone, his 
wife having gone to procure him milk from a 
kind neighbour. I was startled at the sight 
of a pale emaciated man, a living image of 
death, fastened upright in a chair, by a rude 
mechanism of cords and belts, hanging from 
the ceiling. He was totally unable to move 
either hand or foot, having more than four 
years been entirely deprived of the use of his 
Hmbs, yet the whole time suffering extreme 
anguish from swellings at all his joints. I 
asked, " Are you left alone, my friend, in this 
deplorable situation ? " " No, sir," replied he, 
in a touchingly feeble tone of mild resigna- 
tion, " I am not alone, for God is with me." I 
asked him if he ever felt tempted to repine 
under the pressure of so long-continued and 
heavy a calamity? • ^' Not for the last three 
years,''^ said he, " blessed be God for it !" the 
eye of faith sparkling, and giving hfe to his 
pallid countenance, while he made the decla- 
ration ; "for 1 have learned from this book in 
whom to believe ; and though I am aware of 
my weakness and unworthiness, I am persua- 
ded that he will not leave me nor forsake me. 
6 



62 THE PLEASANTNESS OF 

And so it is, that when my lips are closed 
with locked-jaw, and I cannot speak to the 
glory of God, he enables me to sing his praises 
in my hearth 

VII. My young friend, are not such hopes, 
such prospects as have been mentioned, sour- 
ces of real pleasure ? If you are a follower 
of the world, what is there in all your vain 
delights, that can bear any comparison with 
that holy peace, that pure delight which flow 
from the love of God, and a hope full of im- 
mortality ? If you yourself perceive no 
charms in these pleasures, ask those who 
have tried them, what support and delight 
they yield even in the last awful hours of life. 
Go to the sick bed of the humble believer, 
say, " Poor sufferer, can you find comfort in 
the midst of anguish ?" " Yes," says one, " I 
have pain, but I have peace, I have peace."* 
" What, can you contemplate death itself with 
comfort ?" *' Yes," replies another, " I bless 
God I can lie down with comfort at night, 
not being solicitous whether I awake in this 
world or another."t But they who made 
these declarations had reached advanced life. 

* Baxter. \ Watts. 



EARLY PIETY. 63 

Go then to the sick bed of the dying youth ; 
ask him, " Can you feel any pleasure, while 
sickness blasts all the joyous prospects which 
the young possess, and threatens you with an 
early tomb ?" Let one reply, who being dead, 
yet speaks, " O, that I could but let you know 
what I now feel ! O, that I could show you 
what 1 see ! O, that I could express the thou- 
sandth part of that sweetness that I now find 
in Christ ! you would all then think it well 
worth while to make it your business to be 
religious. O, my dear friends, you little think 
what Christ is worth upon a death-bed. I 
would not, for a world, nay, for millions of 
worlds, be now without Christ and a pardon. 
I would not for a world live any longer : the 
very thought of a possibility of recovery 
makes me even tremble. Come, Lord Jesus, 
come quickly. Death, do thy worst. Death 
hath lost its terribleness. Death, it is nothing. 
Death is nothing (through grace) to me. I 
can as easily die as shut my eyes ; or turn 
my head and sleep ; I long to be with Christ ; 
I long to die. O, that you did but see and 
feel what I do ! Come and behold a dying 
man more cheerful than you ever saw any 



64 THE PLEASANTNESS OF 

healthful man in the midst of his sweetest en- 
joyments. O, sirs, worldly pleasures are pit- 
iful, poor, sorry things, compared with one 
glimpse of this glory, which shines so strongly 
into my soul ! O, why should any of you be 
so sad, when I am so glad? This, this is the 
hour that I have waited for."^ Or now ask 
the pious young woman, who, while others of 
her age are flaunting away in vanity and folly, 
lies on the bed of pain and suffering. Say to 
her, '* Is religion pleasant in your esteem ?" 
" Yes," she might reply, " yes, I am very 
happy : I would not change situation with 
any one living. Do not weep for me : I have 
no wish to live ; if I might have life by wish- 
ing for it, I should rather choose to die, and 
go to my Redeemer." " I long to go home." 
" I am truly happy, and if this be dying, it is 
a pleasant thing to die." " Not for all the 
world, not for a thousand worlds would I be 
restored to health."* The purport of these 
expressions was actually uttered by two 
young ladies, neither of whom completed 
her sixteenth year. O happy they who learn 

* Janeway. 

t Eliza Cunningham and Eliza M . 



EARLY PIETY. 65 

SO soon, so well to die ! And could you fol- 
low these to the triumphant family above, and 
see that glory which no heart conceives, then 
might a heavenly voice say to you, " Hither 
lead the despised and neglected, but pleasant 
paths of early piety." My young friend, shall 
they lead you there ? Can you be truly hap- 
py in any other way? Can you be happy 
too soon in this ? Seek happiness, then, at 
once ; O, seek it in the love of your Redeemer, 
and the favour of your God. 



True happiness had no localities ; 
No tones provincial — no peculiar garb. 
Where duty went, she went — with justice went — 
And went with meekness, charity, and love. 
Where'er a tear was dried — a wounded heart 
Bound up — a bruised spirit with the dew 
Of sympathy anointed — or a pang 
Of honest suffering soothed — or injury 
Repeated oft, as oft by love forgiven; 
Where'er an evil passion was subdued, 
Or Virtue's feeble embers fanned ; where'er 
A sin was heartily abjured, and left ; 
Where'er a pious act was done, or breathed 
A pious prayer, or wished a pious wish — 
There was a high and holy place, a spot 
Of sacred light, a most religious fane, 
Where Happiness, descending, sat and smiled. 

6* POLLOK. 



THE PLEASURES 



RELIGIOUS LIFE. 



THE PLEASURES 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 



A DESIRE after happiness is inseparable 
from the human mind. It is the natm'al and 
healthy craving of our spirit ; an appetite 
which we have neither will nor power to de- 
stroy, and for which all mankind are busily 
employed in making provision. This is as 
natural as for birds to fly, or fishes to swim. 
For this the scholar and the philosopher, who 
think it consists in knowledge, pore over their 
books and their apparatus, light the midnight 
lamp, and keep frequent vigils, when the 
world around them is asleep. For this the 
warrior, who thinks that happiness is insepa- 
rably united with fame, pursues that bubble 
through the glory field of conflict, and is as lav- 
ish of his fife, as if it were not worth a soldier's 
pay. The worldling, with whom happiness 



70 THE PLEASURES OF 

and wealth are kindred terms, worships daily 
at the shrine of Mammon, and offers earnest 
prayers for the golden shower. The volup- 
tuary gratifies every craving sense, rejoices 
in the midnight revel, renders himself vile, 
and yet tells you he is in the chase of happi- 
ness. The ambitious man, conceiving that 
the great desideratum blossoms on the scep- 
tre, and hangs in rich clusters from the throne, 
consumes one half of his life, and embitters 
the other half, in climbing the giddy elevation 
of royalty. All these, however, have confess- 
ed their disappointment ; and have retired 
from the stage exclaiming, in reference to 
happiness, what Brutus, just before he stabbed 
himself, did in reference to virtue, " I have 
pursued thee every where, and found thee 
nothing but a name." This, however, is a 
mistake ; for both virtue and happiness are 
glorious realities, and if they are not found, it 
is merely because they are not sought from 
the right sources. 

We may affirm of pleasure what Job did 
of wisdom, " There is a path which no fowl 
knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath 
not seen : the lion's whelps have not trodden 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 71 

it, nor the fierce lion passed by it. But where 
shall" happiness "be found, and where is the 
place oV^ enjoyment? "Man knoweth not 
the price thereof; neither is it found in the 
land of the living. The depth saith, It is not in 
me ; and the sea saith. It is not with me. It 
cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver 
be weighed for the price thereof. It cannot 
be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the 
precious onyx, or the sapphire. Whence then 
Cometh" happiness, "and where is the place 
oV^ enjoyment 7 "seeing it is hid from the 
eyes of all living, and kept close from the 
fowls of the air. Destruction and death say, 
We have heard the fame thereof with our 
ears. God understandeth the way thereof, 
and he knoweth the place thereof. When 
he made a decree for the rain, and a way for 
the lightning of the thunder ; then did he see 
it and declare it ; he prepared it, yea, and 
searched it out. And unto man he said, Be- 
hold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom ; 
and wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness, 
all her paths are peace." 

Happiness has no other equivalent term 
than religion, and this is a moral synonymy. 



72 THE PLEASURES OF 

If, indeed, the case were otherwise, and reli- 
gion, so far as the present world is concern- 
ed, entailed nothing but wretchedness, yet, as 
it leads to eternal felicity in the world to 
come, it is most manifestly our interest to at- 
tend to its claims. The poor Hmdoo devo- 
tee, who endures all kinds of tortures under 
the idea that it is the only way to eternal fe- 
licity, acts with perfect rationahty, if you al- 
low his data. A life protracted to the length 
of Methuselah's, and filled with penances and 
pilgrimages, should be willingly and thank- 
fully endured, if salvation could be procured 
by no other means. In the prospect of eter- 
nity, with heaven spreading out its ineffable 
glories, and hell uncovering its dreadful hor- 
rors, the only question which a rational crea- 
ture should allow himself to ask is, " What is 
necessary to avoid the torments of the one, 
and secure the felicities of the other?" and 
on being told " Religion," he should apply 
with all the energies of his soul to this great 
business, without scarcely allowing himself to 
ask whether its duties are pleasant or irk- 
some. The man who is journeying to take 
possession of a kingdom, scarcely thinks it 



A RELiaiOUS LIFE. 73 

worth his while to inquire whether the road 
be through a wilderness or a paradise. It is 
enough for him to know, that it is the only 
road to the throne. Hence, the representa- 
tion of the pleasures of religion, is a sort of 
gratuity in this subject. It serves, however, 
to leave those still more destitute of excuse, 
who live in the neglect of piety ; and, in this 
view, may have still greater power to rouse 
the conscience. 

1. That religion is pleasure, will appear, if 
you consider what part of our nature it more 
particularly employs and gratifies. 

It is not the gratification of the senses, or 
of the ^animal part of our nature, but a pro- 
vision for the immaterial and immortal mind. 
The mind of man is an image not only of 
God's spirituality, but of his infinity. It is 
not like the senses, limited to this or that kind 
of object ; as the sight intermeddles not with 
that which effects the smell ; but with an 
universal superintendance, it arbitrates upon, 
and takes them all in. It is, as I may say, 
an ocean, into which all the little rivulets of 
sensation, both external and internal, dis- 
charge themselves. Now this is that part of 
7 



74 THE PLEASURES OF 

man to which the exercises of religion prop- 
erly belong. The pleasures of the und^r 
standing, in the contemplation of truth, have 
been sometimes so great, so intense, so en- 
grossing of all the powers of the soul, that 
there has been no room left for any other 
kind of pleasure. How short of this are the 
delights of the epicure ! How vastly dispro- 
portionate are the pleasures of the eating, 
and of the thinking man ! Indeed, says Dn 
South, as different as the silence of an Ar- 
chimides in the study of a problem, and the 
stillness of a sow at her wash. Nothing is 
comparable to the pleasures of mind ; these 
are enjoyed by the spirits above, by Jesus 
Christ, and the great and blessed God. 

Think what objects religion brings before 
the mind, as the sources of its pleasure : no 
less than the great God himself, and that both 
in his nature and in his works. For the eye 
of religion, like that of the eagle, directs it- 
self chiefly to the sun, to a glory that neither 
admits of a superior nor an equal. The mind 
is conversant, in the exercises of piety, with 
all the most stupendous events that have ever 
occurred in the history of the universe, or 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 75 

that ever will transpire till the close of lime. 
The creation of the world ; its government by 
a universal Providence ; its redemption by the 
death of Christ ; its conversion by the power 
of the Holy Ghost ; its trial before the bar of 
God ; the immortality of the soul; the resur- 
rection of the body ; the certainty of an eter- 
nal existence ; the secrets of the unseen state ; 
subjects, all of them of the loftiest and subli- 
mest kind, which have engaged the inquiries 
of the profoundest intellects, are the matter 
of contemplation to real piety. What topics 
are these for our reason, under the guidance 
of religion, to study; what an ocean to swim 
in, what a heaven to soar in : what heights to 
measure, what depths to fathom. Here are 
subjects, which, from their infinite vastness, 
must be ever new, and ever fresh ; which 
can be never laid aside as dry or empty. If 
novelty is the parent of pleasure, here it may 
be found ; for although the subject itself is the 
same, some new view of it, some fresh dis- 
covery of its wonders, is ever bursting upon 
the mind of the devout and attentive inquirer 
after truth. 
How then can religion be otherwise than 



76 THE PLEASURES OF 

pleasant, when it is the exercise of the noble 
faculties of the mind, upon the subhmest top- 
ics of mental investigation ; the voluntary, ex- 
cursive, endless pursuits of the human under- 
standing in the region of eternal truth. Never 
was there a more interesting or important in- 
quiry than that proposed by Pilate to the il- 
lustrious prisoner at his bar ; and if the latter 
thought it not proper to answer it, it was not 
to show that the question was insignificant, 
but to condemn the light and flippant manner 
in which a subject so important was taken up. 
Religion can answer the question, and with 
an ecstacy greater than that of the ancient 
mathematician, exclaims, " I have found it ; I 
have found it." The Bible is not only true, 
but TRUTH. It contains that which deserves 
this sublime emphasis. It settles the dis- 
putes of ages, and of philosophers, and makes 
known what is truth, and where it is to be 
found. It brings us from amongst the quick- 
sands and shelves, and rocks of skepticism* 
ignorance, and error, and shows us that good- 
ly land, in quest of which, myriads of minds 
have sailed, and multitudes have been wreck- 
ed ; and religion is setting our foot on this 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 77 

shore, and dwelling in the region of eternal 
trnth. 

2. That a religious life is pleasant, is evi- 
dent from the nature of i^eligion itself. 

Religion is a principle of spiritual life in 
the soul. Now all the exercises and acts of 
vitality are agreeable. To see, to hear, to 
taste, to walk, are all agreeable, because they 
are the voluntary energies of inward life. So 
religion, in all its duties, is the exercise of a 
living principle in the soul : it is a new spir- 
itual existence. Piety is a spiritual taste. 
Hence it is said, " If so be ye have tastedih^X 
the Lord is gracious." No matter what the 
object of a taste is, the exercises of it are al- 
ways agreeable. The painter goes with de- 
light to his picture ; the musician to his in- 
strument ; the sculptor to his bust ; because 
they have a taste for these pursuits. The 
same feeling of delight attends the Christian 
to the exercises of godhness ; and this is his 
language, " It is a good thing to give thanks, 
and to draw near to God. O how I love thy 
law ! it is sweeter to my taste than honey. 
How amiable are thy tabernacles." Reli- 
gion, where it is real, is the natural element 
7# 



78 THE PLEASURES OF 

of a Christian ; and every creature rejoices in 
its own appropriate sphere. If you consider 
true piety with disgust, as a hard, unnatural, 
involuntary thing, you are totally ignorant of 
its nature, entirely destitute of its influence, 
and no v^onder you cannot attach to it the 
idea of pleasure : but view^ing it as it ought 
to be viewed, in the light of a new nature, 
you will perceive that it admits of most ex- 
alted delight. 

3. Consider the miseries which it prevents. 
It does not, it is true, prevent sickness, 
poverty, or misfortune : it does not fence off" 
from the wilderness of this world, a mystic 
inclosure, within which the ills of life never 
intrude. No ; these things happen to all 
alike: but how small a portion of human 
wretchedness flows from these sources, com- 
pared with that which arises from the dispo- 
sitions of the heart. " The mind is its own 
place, can make a heaven of hell, a hell of 
heaven." Men carry the springs of their 
happiness or misery in their own bosom. 
Hence it is said of the wicked, "that they 
are like the troubled sea which cannot rest, 
which is never at peace, but continually 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 79 

casting up mire and dirt." In contrast with 
which, it is affirmed that "the work of right- 
eousness is peace ; and that the good man 
shall be satisfied from himself." Would you 
behold the misery entailed by pride, look at 
Haman ; by covetousness, look at Ahab ; by 
malice, look at Cain ; by profaneness and 
sensuality, united with the forebodings of a 
guilty conscience, look at Belshazzar ; by 
envy, and a consciousness of being rejected 
of God, look at Saul; by revenge, look at 
Herodias writhing beneath the accusations 
of John, and thirsting for his blood ; by apos- 
tacy, look at Judas. Religion would have 
prevented all this, and it will prevent similar 
misery in you. Hearken to the confessions 
of the outcast in the land of his banishment ; 
of the felon in his irons, and in his dungeon ; 
of the prostitute expiring upon her bed of 
straw; of the malefactor at the gallows — 
" Wretched creature that I am, abhorred of 
men, accursed of God ! To what have my 
crimes brought me !" Religion prevents all 
this ; all that wretchedness which is the re- 
sult of crime, is cut oflT by the influence of 
genuine piety. Misery prevented is happi- 
ness gained. 



80 THE PLEASURES OF 

4. Dwell upon the privileges it covfers. 

To a man who is a partaker of its genuine 
influence, all the sins he has committed, be 
they ever so numerous or so great, are all 
forgiven, and he is introduced to the bliss of 
pardoned guilt ; he is restored to the favour 
of that Great Being, whose smile is life, and 
lights up heaven with joy ; w^iose frown is 
death, and fills all hell with wo. But I can- 
not describe these privileges in such briUiant 
language as has been employed by a trans- 
atlantic author: — "Regeneration is of the 
highest importance to man, as a subject of 
the divine government. With his former 
disposition he was a rebel against God, and 
v^ith this he becomes cheerfully an obedient 
subject. Of an enemy he becomes a fi iend ; 
of an apostate he becomes a child. From the 
debased, hateful, miserable characcter of sin, 
he makes a final escape, and begins the glo- 
rious and eternal career of virtue. With his 
character his destination is equally changed ; 
in his native condition he was a child of 
w^rath, an object of abhorrence, and an heir 
of wo. Evil, in an unceasing, and intermi- 
nable progress, was his lot ; the regions of 



A PvELlGIOUS LIFE. 81 

sorrow and despair his everlasting home ; 
and fiends and fiend-hke men his eternal 
companions. On his character good beings 
looked with detestation, and on his ruin with 
pity; while evil beings beheld both with that 
Satanic pleasure, which a reprobate mind can 
enjoy at the sight of companionship in turpi- 
tude and destruction. 

"But when he becomes a subject of this 
great and happy change of character, all 
things connected with him are also changed. 
His unbelief, impenitence, hatred of God, re- 
jection of Christ, and resistance of the Spirit 
of Grace, he has voluntarily and ingenuously 
renounced ; no more rebellious, impious, or 
ungrateful, he has assunled the amiable spirit 
of submission, repentance, confidence, hope, 
gratitude, and love. The image of his Maker 
is enstamped upon his mind, and begins there 
to shine with moral and eternal beauty. The 
seeds of immortality have there sprung up, 
as in a kindly soil ; and warmed by the life- 
giving beams of the Sun of Righteousness, 
and refreshed by the dewy influence of the 
Spirit of Grace, rise, and bloom and flourish 
with increasing vigour. In him sin and the 



82 THE PLEASURES OF 

world and the flesh daily decay, and daily an- 
nounce their approaching dissolution; while 
the soul continually assumes new life and 
virtue, and is animated wnth superior and un- 
dying energy. He is now a joint heir with 
Christ, and the destined inhabitant of heaven ; 
the gates of glory and of happiness are alrea- 
dy opened to receive him, and the joy of saints 
and angels has been renewed over his repent- 
ance ; all around him is peace — all before him 
purity and transport. God is his Father ; 
Christ his Redeemer ; and the Spirit of truth 
his Sanctifier. Heaven is his eternal habita- 
tion ; virtue is his immortal character ; and 
cherubim and seraphim and all the children of 
light are his companions for ever. Hence- 
forth he becomes of course a rich blessing to 
the universe ; all good beings, nay, God him- 
self, will rejoice in him for ever, as a valuable 
accession to the great kingdom of righteous- 
ness, as a real addition to the mass of created 
good, and as an humble, but faithful and 
honourable instrument of the everlasting 
praise of heaven. He is a vessel of infinite 
mercy ; an illustrious trophy of the cross ; a 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 83 

gem in the crown of glory, which adorns the 
Redeemer of mankind."^ 

Whoj my children, can read this animated 
description of the privileges of true piety (and 
it is not an exaggerated account) without se- 
cretely longing to be a child of God ? What 
are all the brightest distinctions of an earthly 
nature, after which envy pines in secret, or 
ambition rages in public, compared with this? 
Crowns are splendid baubles, gold is sordid 
dust, and all the gratifications of sense but 
vanity and vexation of spirit, when weighed 
against such splendid immunities as these. 

5. Consider the consolations it imparts. 

Our world has been called, in the language 
of poetry, a vale of tears, and human life a 
bubble, raised from those tears, and inflated 
by sighs, which, after floating a little while, 
decked with a few gaudy colours, is touched 
by the hand of death, and dissolves. Poverty, 
disease, misfortune, unkindness, inconstancy, 
death, all assail the travellers as they journey 
onward to eternity through this gloomy val- 
ley ; and what is to comfort them but reli- 
gion ? 

* Dwight's Sermon on Regeneration. 



84 



THE PLEASUEES OF 



The consolations of religion are neither few 
nor small ; they arise in part from those 
things which we have already mentioned in 
this chapter; i, e. from the exercise of the 
understanding on the revealed truths of God's 
word, from the impulses of the spiritual life 
within us, and from a reflection upon our 
spiritual privileges : but there are some oth- 
ers, which, though partially implied in these 
things, deserve a special enumeration and dis- 
tinct consideration. 

A good conscience, which the wise man 
says is a perpetual feast, sustains a high place 
amongst the comforts of genuine piety. It is 
unquestionably true, that a man's happiness is 
in the keeping of his conscience ; all the sour- 
ces of his felicity are under the command of 
this faculty. *'A wounded spirit who can 
bear?" A troubled conscience converts a 
paradise into a hell, for it is the flame of hell 
kindled on earth ; but a quiet conscience would 
illuminate the horrors of the deepest dungeon 
with the beams of heavenly day ; the former 
has often rendered men like tormented fiends 
amidst an elysium of delights, while the latter 
has taught the songs of cherubim to martyrs in 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 85 

the prison or the flames. Religion furnishes 
a good conscience ; by faith in the blood of 
Christ it takes away guilt towards God, and 
by a holy life it keeps the conscience clear 
towards man. It first makes it good by jus- 
tification and then keeps it good by sanctifica- 
tion. What trouble may not a man bear be- 
neath the smiles of an approving conscience ! 
If this be calm and serene, the storms of af- 
fliction, which rage without, can as little dis- 
turb the comfort of the mind, as the fury of 
the wintry tempest can do, to alarm the in- 
habitants of a well-built, well-stored mansion. 
In addition to this, religion comforts the 
mind, with with the assurance of an all-wise^ 
all-pervading Providence, so minute in its su- 
perintendence and control, that not a spar- 
row falls to the ground without the knowledge 
of our heavenly Father; a superintendence 
which is excluded from no point of space, no 
moment of time, and overlooks not the mean- 
est creature in existence. Nor is this all ; for 
the word of God assures the believer that 
** all things work together for good to them 
that love God, loho are the called according to 
his purpose J^ Nothing that imagination could 
8 



THE PLEASURES OF 



conceive, is more truly consolatory than this, 
to be assured that all things, however painful 
at the time, not excepting the failure of our 
favourite scheme, the disappointment of our 
fondest hopes, the loss of our dearest comforts, 
shall be overruled by infinite w^isdom for the 
promotion of our ultimate good. This is a 
spring of comfort w^hose w^aters never fail. 

Religion consoles also hy making manifest 
some of the benefits of affliction, even at the 
time it is endured. It crucifies the world, 
mortifies sin, quickens prayer, extracts the 
balmy sweets of the promises, endears the 
Saviour; and, to crown all, it directs the mind 
to that glorious state, where the days of our 
mourning shall he ended : that happy country 
where God shall wipe every tear from our 
eyes, and there shall be no more sorrow or 
crying. Nothing so composes the mind, and 
helps it bear the load of trouble which God 
may lay upon it, as the near prospect of its 
termination. Religion shows the weather- 
beaten mariner the haven of eternal repose, 
where no storms arise, and the sea is ever 
calm ; it exhibits to the weary traveller the 
city of habitation, within whose w^alls he will 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 87 

find a pleasant home, rest from his labours, 
and friends to welcome his arrival : it discloses 
to the wounded warrior his native country, 
where the alarms of war, and the dangers of 
conflict, will be no more encountered, but un- 
disturbed peace for ever reign. In that one 
word, HEAVEN, rehgion provides a balm for 
every wound, a cordial for every care. 

Here then, is the pleasure of that wisdom 
which is from above ; it is not only enjoyed in 
prosperity, but continues to refresh us, and 
most powerfully to refresh us, in adversity ; a 
remark which will not apply to any other kind 
of pleasure. 

In the hour of misfortune, when a man, 
once in happy circumstances, sits down, 
amidst the wreck of all his comforts, and sees 
nothing but the fragments of his fortune for 
his wife and family, what, in this storm of af- 
fliction, is to cheer him but religion ; and this 
can do it, and enable him to say, "although 
the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall 
fruit be in the vines ; the labour of the olive 
shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat ; 
the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and 
there shall be no herd in the stalls ; yet will I 



88 THE PLEASURES OF 

rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of 
my salvation ! " What but religion can com- 
fort the poor labourer in that gloomy season 
when times are bad, and work is scarce, and 
he hardly knows w^here to procure his next 
meal ? What can comfort the suffering female 
in that long and dreadful season, when, wast- 
ing away in a deep decline, she lies, night af- 
ter night, consumed by fever, and day after 
day, convulsed by coughing ? Tell me, what 
can send a ray of comfort to her dark scene 
of wo, or a drop of consolation to her parch- 
ed and thirsting lips, but religion ? And when 
the agonized parent, with a heart half broken 
by the conduct of a prodigal son, exclaims — 
" ! who can tell how sharper than a ser- 
pent's tooth it is to have a thankless child !" 
what, in that season of torture, can pour a 
drop of balm into the wounded spirit but reli- 
gion ? And when we occupy the bed-side of 
a departed friend, " the dreadful post of ob- 
servation darker every hour, " what but reli- 
gion can sustain the mind, and calm the tumult 
of the soul? what, but this, can enable us to 
bear with even tolerable composure, the pang 
of separation ? And we too must die : and 



A EELIGIOUS LIFE. b\J 

here is the excellence of piety ; it follows us, 
where no other friend can follow us, down 
into the dark valley of the shadow of death, 
stands by us when the last hand has quitted 
its grasp, reserves its mightiest energies for 
that most awful conflict, presents to the eye of 
faith the visions of glory rising up beyond the 
sepulchre, and angels advancing to receive us 
from the hand of earthly friends to bear us to 
the presence of a smiling God. 

Other sources of pleasure are open only 
during the season of health and prosperity. 
Admitting that they were all which their most 
impassioned admirers contend for, what can 
balls, routs, plays, cards, do, in the season of 
sickness, misfortune, or death ? Alas ! alas ! 
they exist then only in recollection, and the 
recollection of them is painful. 

6. The pleasures of religion appear in the 
graces it implants, 

" And now abideth these three, Faith, Hope, 
Charity." 

Faith is the leading virtue of Christianity. 

To believe, in any case, where the report 
is welcome, and the evidence of its truth con- 
vincing, is a pleasing exercise of the mind ; 
8* 



90 THE PLEASURES OF 

how much more so in this case, where the tes- 
timony to be believed is the glad tidings of 
salvation, and the evidence of its truth most 
entirely satisfactory ? Hope is a most delight- 
ful exercise. The pleasures of Hope have 
formed a theme for the poet ; and it is evi- 
dent that these pleasures must be in propor- 
tion, to the importance of the object desired 
and the grounds that exist to expect its ac- 
complishment. What then must be the in- 
fluence of that hope which is full of immor- 
tality, which has the glory of heaven for its 
object, and the truth of God for its basis ! 
which, as it looks towads its horizon, sees the 
shadowy forms of eternal felicity, rising, ex- 
panding, brightening, and advancing, every 
moment. Love is a third virtue, implanted 
and cherished in the soul by religion. Need 
1 describe the pleasures connected with a pure 
and virtuous affection? Religion is love — 
love of the purest and subHmest kind ; this is 
its essence, all else, but its earthly attire, which 
it throws off as Elijah did his mantle, when it 
ascends to the skies. The delight of love must 
be in proportion to the excellence of its object, 
and the strength of its own propensity towards 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 91 

that object. What then must be the pleasure 
of that love which has God as its object, and 
which consists in complacency in his glories, 
gratitude for his mercies submission to his 
will, and the enjoyment of his favour! This 
is a heavenly feeling, which brings us into 
communion with angels, and anticipates on 
earth the enjoyments of eternity. Submis- 
sion, patience, meekness, gentleness, justice, 
compassion, zeal, are also among the graces 
which true religion implants in the human 
soul ; which, like lovely flowers, adorn it with 
indescribable beauty, and refresh it with the 
most dehcious fragrance. 

7. Consider the duties which religion en- 
joins, and you will find in each of these a 
spring of hallowed pleasure. 

How delightful an exercise is prayer! 
"Prayer is the peace of our spirit, the still- 
ness of our thoughts, the evenness of recol- 
lection, the seat of meditation, the rest of our 
cares, and the calm of our tempests ; it is the 
daughter of charity, and the sister of meek- 
ness." It is pleasant to tell our sorrows to 
any one ; how much more to him who is om- 
nipotent in power, infallible in wisdom, and 



92 THE PLEASURES OF 

infinite in compassion ! With prayer is con- 
nected praise^ that elevated action of the soul, 
in which she seems at the time to be learning 
motion and melody from an angel. How 
pleasant an exercise is the perusal of the 
scriptures! In prayer w^e speak to God, and 
in the Bible God speaks to us, and both confer 
upon us honour indescribable. Passing by 
the antiquity of its history, the pathos of its 
narratives, the beauty of its imagery, how sub- 
lime are its doctrines, how precious its prom- 
ises, how free its invitations, how salutary its 
warnings, how intense its devotions! "Pre- 
cious Bible ! when weighed against thee, all 
other books are but as the small dust of the 
balance." Nor less pleasant is the holy re- 
membrance of the Sabbath. "I was glad," 
exclaims the Christian, " when they said to me, 
let us go into the house of the Lord : " and 
there, when standing within the gates of Zion, 
surrounded with the multitude that keep holy 
day, he repeats, amidst the years of his man- 
hood the song of his childhood, and from the 
fulness of his joy, he exclaims — 

'* Lord, how delightfal 'tis to see 
A whole assembly worship thee ; 



1 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 93 

At once they sing, at once they pray, 
They hear of heaven, and learn the way." 

The sweetly-solemn engagements of the 
sacramental feast ; the flow of brotherly love, 
called forth by 5oaaZj9r«2/er, together with the 
ardour of benevolence, inspired by the sup- 
port of public religious institutions; in these 
exercises is true happiness to be found, if in- 
deed it is to be found any where on earth. 

8. As a last proof of the pleasures derived 
from religion, I may appeal to the experience 
of its friends. Here the evidences accumu- 
late by myriads on earth, and millions in hea- 
ven. Who that ever felt its influence, will 
doubt its tendency to produce delight ? Go, 
go, my children, to the saints of the most high 
God, and collect ^/lefr testimony, and youshall 
be convinced " that light is sown for the righ- 
teous, and gladness for the upright in heart." 
Go not to the Christian of doubtful character, 
for he has only just religion enough to make 
him miserable ; go to the most holy, and you 
shall find them the most happy. 

And then there are also two or three other 
circumstances which are connected with the 
pleasures of religion that deserve attention. 



94 THE PLEASURES OF 

It is pleasure that never satiates or wearies. 
Can the epicure, the voluptuary, the drunkard, 
the ball frequenter, say this of their delights? 
" How short is the interval, how easy the tran- 
sition, between a pleasure and a burden. If 
sport refreshes a man when he is weary, it also 
wearies when he is refreshed. The most de- 
voted pleasure-hunter in existence, were he 
bound to his sepsual delights every day, would 
find it an intolerable burden, and fly to the 
spade and the mattock for a diversion from 
the misery of an unintermitted pleasure. Cus- 
tom may render continued labour tolerable, 
but not continued pleasure. All pleasures 
that affect the body must needs weary, be- 
cause they transport ; and all transportation 
is violence ; and no violence can be lasting, 
but determines upon the falling of the spirits, 
which are not able to keep up that height of 
motion, that the pleasure of the sense raises 
them to : and therefore how generally does 
an immoderate laughter end in a sigh, which 
is only nature's recovering herself after a force 
done to it ; but the religious pleasure of a well- 
disposed mind moves gently, and therefore 
constantly ; it does not affect by rapture and 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 95 

ecstacy, but is like the pleasure of health, 
which is still and sober, yet greater and 
stronger than those which call up the senses 
with grosser and more affecting impressions." 

And as all the grosser pleasures of sense 
weary, and all the sports and recreations soon 
pall upon the appetite, so, under some circum- 
stances, do the more elevated enjoyments of 
exalted rank, agreeable company, and lively 
conversation ; it is religion alone that pre- 
serves an unfading freshness, an undying 
charm, an inexhaustible power to please ; it 
is this alone of all our pleasures which never 
cloys, never surfeits, but increases the appe- 
tite the more it gratifies it, and leaves it, after 
the richest feast, prepared and hungry for a 
still more splendid banquet. 

And then another ennobling property of the 
pleasure that arises from religion, is, that as 
the sources and the seat of it are in a mavUs 
own breast, it is not in the power of any thing 
ivithout him to destroy it, or take it away^ 
Upon God alone is he dependant for its en- 
joyment. Upon how many other agents, and 
upon what numerous contingencies, over which 
he can exercise no control, is the votary of 



96 THE PLEASURES OF 

worldly pleasure dependant for his bliss. How 
many things which he cannot command, are 
necessary to make up the machinery of his 
schemes. What trifles may disappoint him 
of his expected gratification, or rob him of his 
promised delights. A variable atmosphere, 
or a human mind, no less variable ; a want of 
punctuality in others, or a want of health in 
himself: these, and a thousand other things, 
might be enumerated as circumstances, upon 
the mercy of each one of which the enjoy- 
ment of worldly pleasure depends. "But 
the good man shall be satisfied from himself." 
" Whoever shall drink of the water that I 
shall give him," said Jesus Christ, "shall 
never thirst, but the water that I shall give him 
shall be in him a well of water springing up 
into everlasting life." The piety of his heart, 
produced by the Holy Ghost, is this well- 
spring of pleasure, which a good man carries 
every where with him, wherever he goes. He 
is independent of all the contingencies of life 
for his bliss. " It is an easy and a portable 
pleasure, such an one as he carries about in his 
bosom, without alarming the eye or the envy 
of the world. A man putting all his plesures 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 97 

into this one, is like a traveller putting all his 
goods, as it were, into one jewel ; the value is 
the same, and the convenience greater. " 

" Nor is this kind of pleasure out of the 
reach of any outward violence only ; but even 
those things also, which make a closer impres- 
sion upon us, which are the irresistible decays 
of nature, have yet no influence at all upon 
this. For when age itself, which of all things 
in the world will not be baffled or defied, 
shall begin to arrest, sieze, and remind us of 
our mortality, by pains, aches, and deadness 
of limbs, and dulness of senses, yet then the 
pleasure of the mind shall be in its full youth, 
vigour, and freshness. A palsy may as soon 
shake an oak, or a fever dry up a fountain, as 
either of them shake, dry up, or impair tlie 
delight of conscience; for it lies within, it cen- 
tres in the heart, it grows into the very sub- 
stance of the soul, so that it accompanies a 
man to his grave ; he never outlives it, and 
that for this cause only, because he cannot out- 
live him. " 

How comes it to pass then, that in opposi- 
tion to all this, the opinion has gained ground 
that religion leads to melancholy ? The irre- 



yo THE PLEASURES OF 

ligious judge of it hy their own feelings ; and 
as they are not conscious of any pleasurable 
emotions, excited by sacred things, they con- 
clude that others are in like manner destitute 
of them. But is their testimony to be received, 
before that of the individual who has tried and 
found it by experience to be bliss ? Again, irreli- 
gious people form their opinion by what they see 
in many prof essors, some of whom, though pro- 
fessing godliness, are destitute of its power ; 
and being more actuated by a spirit of the world 
than of piety, are strangers to the peace that 
passeth understanding; others are not yet 
brought out of that deep dejection, with which 
the earlier stages of conviction are sometimes 
attended. The sinner, when first arrested in 
his thoughtless career, is filled with deep dis- 
may, and the most poignant grief; reviewed 
in this state of mind, his appearance may pro- 
duce the idea that religion is the parent of 
melancholy. But wait, he that sows in tears 
shall reap in joy. His tears, like showers in 
summer from a dark and lowering cloud, 
carry off the gloom which they first caused, 
portend a clearer and a cooler atmosphere, 
and are ultimately followed by the bright shin- 
ing of the sun. 



A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 99 

An unfavourable impression against reli- 
gion is sometimes produced by the constitu- 
tional glooin of some of its genuine disciples. 
It should be recollected, that in these cases, 
religion does not cause the dejection, for this 
would have existed had there been no pietj^ 
All that can be said is, that it does not cure 
it, which is not to be expected, unless piety 
pretended to exert an influence over the physi- 
cal nature of man. 

The supposition that piety leads to melan- 
choly is also founded, in part, on the self -deny- 
ing duties which the word of God enjoins. 
Penitence, self-denial, renunciation of the wold, 
willingness to take up the cross, and follow af- 
ter Christ, are unquestionably required, and 
must be truly found in the genuine Christian. 
Hence, the worldling thinks it impossible, but 
that with such duties, should be associated the 
most sullen and miserable state of mind. Lit- 
tle does he imagine, that the pleasures which 
religion has to offer for those she requires us 
to abandon, are like the orb of day to the glow- 
worm of the hedge, or the meteor of the 
swamp ; and that for every moment's self-de- 



100 THE PLEASURES OF 

nial she requires us to endure, she has a mil- 
hon ages of ineffable dehght to bestow. 

"And now upon the result of all, 1 suppose 
that to exhort men to be religious, is only in 
other words to exhort them to take their plea- 
sure — a pleasure, high, rational, and angelical 
— a pleasure embased with no appendant sting, 
no consequent loathing, no remorses or bitter 
farewells : but such an one, as being honey in 
the mouth, never turns to gall in the belly : a 
pleasure made for the soul and the soul for that ; 
suitable to its spirituality and equal to its capa- 
cities: such an one as grows fresher upon enjoy- 
ment, and though continually fed upon, is never 
devoured: a pleasure that a man may call as 
properly his own, as his soul and his con- 
science ; neither liable to accident, nor expos- 
ed to injury; it is the foretaste of heaven, and 
the earnest of eternity: in a word, it is such 
an one as being begun in grace, passes into 
glory, blessedness, and immortality ; and those 
joys that neither eye hath seen, nor ear heard, 
nor have entered into the heart of man to 
conceive !" 



OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. 



HAPPINESS WHERE IS IT? 

Is it in wealth? Go, probe the breast 

Of fortune's favorite heir : 
And why doth woe that heart infest, 

And anguish canker there? 

Is it in fame? Its empty breath, 

Inconstant as the breeze, 
Will blast, ere long, the laurel wreath 

That late it formed to please. 

Is it in friendship, or in love ? 

Alas ! they soon decay : 
The tears of disappointment prove 

How feeble is their stay. 

'Tis not in all that here excels, 
'Tis not in Folly's round ; 

Look upward, mortal, there it dwells, 
And only there is found. 



101 



FINIS. 



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